Second Term - A Novel of America in the Last Days (The End of America Series Book 1)

SECOND
TERM

A NOVEL OF

AMERICA IN THE
LAST DAYS

JOHN
PRICE

Christian
House Publishing, Inc.

Second Term
is Book One
of a trilogy of novels arising         from events that may well occur during
the second term of an American President, informed by Biblical prophecy.

SECOND
TERM

A
NOVEL OF AMERICA IN THE LAST DAYS

Copyright
© 2012 and 2013 by John Price

          This book
is a novel, a work of fiction. Any similarity or resemblance of the characters
depicted in this book to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Names, characters, places and incidents depicted in this novel are devised and
used fictitiously. 

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the Author or Christian
House Publishing, Inc.

www.SECONDTERMBOOK.com

www.ENDOFAMERICABOOK.com

Library of Congress Control Number –
2011916857

Price,
John

SECOND
TERM

A
Novel of America in the Last Days

ISBN-13:
978-0-9840771-3-7 (Amazon)

ISBN-13:
978-0-9840771-4-4 (Kindle)

Printed
in the United States of America

AMENDMENT
ONE

TO
THE CONSTITUTION

OF
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Congress shall make no law respecting

an establishment of religion,

or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;

or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the
press;

or the right of the people peaceably to assemble,

 and to petition the

 Government for a redress of grievances.

AMENDMENT
TWO

TO
THE CONSTITUTION

OF
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A
well-regulated militia,

being
necessary to the security of a free state,

 the
right of the people to keep and bear arms

shall
not be infringed.

(The
Bill of Rights was adopted on December 15, 1791)

I.

THE

PRESIDENTIAL

ELECTION

“It
will begin with an internal revolution.”

Introduction
to September, 1984 “Message to America” by Romanian Pastor Dumitru Duduman
(1932-1997)

ONE

THE
WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE

Washington,
DC

Vivian Higgins raced
down the hall of the West Wing, flew past the Secret Service Agent posted at
the door to the Oval Office and pushed open the office’s curved door, without
being announced. As the President’s Chief Domestic Policy Advisor, she was the
only staff member who could get away with such an injudicious entrance. The
President, who was reading a memo from Speaker Pelham, snapped his head up to
see who had burst into his world-famous office without even a knock, let alone
a phone alert.

Once he saw that it
was Vivian, he smiled broadly, knowing that even if he asked her to be more
respectful of his official space, it wouldn’t do any good. They went too far
back, to the days when neither had any money, nor much power, just a common
desire to radically transform their country. Both knew that the President was
sitting in this august office only because Vivian, who was then working for the
mayor of their city, had taken him under her wing. Vivian had been introduced
to the young community organizer by his fiancée, a friend of Vivian’s.
Impressed by his good looks and his hyper-liberal ideas, which matched those of
Vivian perfectly, she quickly introduced him to the members of the
establishment in their city. The rest, as they both had frequently observed
since, was definitely history.

The President
couldn’t recall ever seeing his Chief Domestic Policy Advisor so upset. “Whoa,
Vivian, slow up. Come here and sit down. You look like you’re about to blow a
gasket. What’s the problem?”

The President wasn’t
too concerned as he knew that whatever was bothering Vivian Higgins had nothing
to do with a foreign crisis, or even a blow up in his already stormy
relationship with Congress. Vivian had a habit of losing her temper only when
anything came close to touching the personal reputation of her boss, whom she
clearly idolized. The President readily accepted the admiration of those who
held him in high regard, but held in obvious disdain those who didn’t.

Clutching a printed
e-mail, Vivian moved towards the most famous desk in the world, her voice
shaking with emotion. “Mr. President, tell me this Politico e-news article that
just hit our computer screens is
wrong
. You’re
not
seriously
considering
dumping
the Vice President
and replacing him with Hilde
?
Tell me it ain’t so! Not
Hilde Ramona Calhoun
.”

“Now, Vivian, calm
down….you know I won’t do anything that major without talking first to
you….and….of course, talking….to…The Wife.”

“So, you
are
thinking
about it?
I knew it
.”

“I have to, Vivian,
you know that, we all know the Veep can’t open his mouth without sticking in
both feet. You remember what he did to me on same sex….”

“Stop. I know better
than anybody what a world class dope he is. You usually assign me to clean up
his daily mess. That’s not the issue. He needs to go off the ticket….but
Hilde
?....Surely
you haven’t decided….to….”

“I
told
you
that until you and
The Wife
and I discuss this, it’s not a done deal.
Plus, the printed results from the poll David ordered aren’t on my desk yet.
All I have is David’s phone call telling me that Hilde on the ticket would move
5-6 per cent of the base into our column. I don’t have to tell you how close
this election is and what 5 to 6 per cent of the vote can mean for winning….and….Vivian,
no matter what you think of Hilde, we
have
to win. Davy and the campaign
staff can only steal so many votes.”

“OK, look I get all
that, but I haven’t forgotten The Wife’s near meltdown when you were
considering Hilde for Vice President four years ago. What did she ask you?….‘Do
you really want Hilde, and her media-hungry husband, Wilbur Jackson Calhoun, who,
let us not forget, occupied this office for two terms, located just down the
hall from the Oval Office?’ ”

“Yeah, yeah. That was
her argument, and I eventually agreed, especially when I realized from the
early polls that I couldn’t lose, that I could put Donald Duck on the ticket
and still win.”

“So, instead you ran
with Goofy and look what that’s done for you. He’s a constant embarrassment….Oh,
by the way, I called The Wife on the way out of my office. She’s on her way
down to….”

TWO

THE
WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE

Washington,
DC

WHAM.
The Oval Office curved door slammed against its door stop as the First Lady
bolted into the room.

“WHAT?
Hilde
Calhoun
? No….NO….Did you hear me? NEVER.”

The First Lady was
livid. She was beyond upset, she was irate. Vivian’s call had ignited her
famous uncontrollable anger. How dare her husband consider replacing the Vice
President with former First Lady Hilde Ramona Calhoun.

“Now, honey, slow it
down. Nobody’s decided anything, and you know that….”

“Don’t
honey
me. You’d
better not
decide something like this without
my
consent”, she said while glancing at her best friend in the White House, “and
Vivian’s
consent, also, of course.”

“Look, let’s take
this one step at a time, shall we? Do we all agree that the Veep should be
history? Too much baggage. An Albatross around our neck. Pick your metaphor.”

The President had agreed
to his one unbreakable rule in his first week in power when, in a weak moment,
he told his wife, and his closest political advisor, that he wouldn’t decide
anything “really big” unless all three agreed. He had come to regret his words
within days, but, by then it was too late, and he had been hobbled ever since
with what amounted to a quiet ‘Three Way Presidency.’ His staff members soon
figured out how things worked, so they invariably lobbied Vivian first, then
the First Lady, and if they had both votes, then they presented their proposals
to the man elected as the ‘leader of the free world’, though there were really
three co-leaders.

Both women, now
seated on the two chairs on both sides of his desk, said nothing, but both quietly
slowly nodded, waiting for the President’s next words, the ones they were both
prepared to pounce on.

“I get it, girls, I
get it….You both hate Hilde. But, I’ve worked with her for the last three
years, and really….she’s not that bad. She’s a lot more savvy on complicated foreign
affairs issues than Wilbur ever was. Everybody used to say that when she
married Wilbur she latched onto her ticket to political stardom. I don’t agree.
I think he did.”

Both women continued
to say nothing, staring at the President. He had not spoken….yet….the words
they were both well prepared to counter. Forcefully.

Fidgeting. Brushing
dust off his desk top. Uncomfortable with their silence, the President thought
that he could play the same game, so he stopped talking. Let’s see what their
main objection is, he thought. I’m armed with polls. I know they’re just armed
with emotion.

Silence. The pendulum
clock in the Oval Office ticking. In the far distance, even through the triple
bullet proof window panes, traffic noise in DC rumbling in the background.

Who would speak
first? From past experience, gained from many bruising battles, the President
knew that The Wife would have to speak first, even if he had to wait until
night time. If he spoke first, he invariably lost. The Wife was not a woman to
be trifled with, let alone argued with. So he waited.

And waited.

The First Lady
blinked first, as the President knew she eventually would.

“All right. I know
you’ve polled this, so what….”

“How did you kno….”

“David. You’re not
the only one who talks to your Campaign Manager. Plus, how long have we been
married? We wouldn’t even be discussing this if you didn’t have a poll in your
desk drawer that you gonna’ whip out on us. Am I right? So, what does the poll
show?”

“I just told Vivian
right before you arrived, sharing your presence with us. Hilde adds five to six
percent….that’s
five to six percent
.”

Neither female
co-President responded. More silence.

The President spoke
up this time, “Guys, I’m a little tired frankly of Wilbur’s less than subtle
public gnawing on my leg in the media. He keeps saying good things about our
opponent. I think he’s hoping that I’ll replace the Veep with his wife, in
order to shut him up. Need I point out the painful truth….that we are today in
a virtual tie with our opponent….
a tie
….and….Hilde can push us over the
line.”

Vivian couldn’t
restrain herself any longer. “You can be sure of that. If you pick Hilde to
replace Goofus she
will
push all of us over the line….and maybe push us
all right
out ‘da door
, if you know what I mean.”

Tag-teaming, the
First Lady jumped in to agree. “Look, I said it four years ago, and I guess I
have to repeat it again. Wilbur and Hilde do not have a very good history with
the long term health of people who fall out of favor with them, shall we say.”

The President leaned
back in his chair, folded his hands on his chest and smiled, for the first time
in the tense discussion. “Honey, that is so much nonsense. The Calhouns may be
a lot of things, especially Wilbur, as we all know. But, murderers, come on.”

The First Lady was
unimpressed. “What was the total body count of former staff who became their
enemies? Unh, was it twenty four? Twenty four deceased former associates of the
Calhouns? You really wanna’ take a chance of having the Calhouns not only one
heartbeat away from their returning to this office, but just one bullet away?”

Turning to the First
Lady, Vivian was shaking her head in obvious disagreement. She said, “I never
bought that internet baloney. I even looked into some of that. Except for the
guy they found over in the DC park, all the others had natural causes of death.
So, I just don’t….”

The First Lady
sensing that she may be in the minority, looked down at her lap, then said, “I’m
just sayin’….”

The President saw his
opportunity, and took it, “Vivian and I aren’t worried about the Calhouns doing
anything like that. This fishbowl of a job doesn’t exactly lend itself to
offing the Commander in Chief. If Lyndon Johnson actually had anything at all
to do with what happened in Dallas, it would have come out within hours. I’m
the most protected man in America, as I should be. Can either of you think of
anyone else more vital to the nation?”

Both women were more
than used to the President’s fascination with himself, but neither wanted to
argue the obvious. The First Lady decided to try one more approach to heading
off Hilde’s nomination as Vice President of the United States.

“Dear,” the First
Lady said, using her most endearing personal name for her husband, “let me just
ask you a simple question. What are you going to do when ol’ Wilbur walks down
that hall there into this office, without even an appointment….pulls up a
chair, puts his oversize feet up on your desk and tells you what you need to do
to handle that day’s crisis? You can’t keep a former President from invading
your space….this was his space, remember?

“Well, I, that is….I
could tell the Secret Service that I want them to….”

“Sure, you can. You
know Wilbur, he’s not a self-restrained person, in any way, including with a
number of female interns, one in this in this very off…”

“OK. I see your
point, but I have a bigger concern, that I’ve thought some about. Wilbur could
make his wife’s West Wing office down the hall into his personal media
relations center, meeting and greeting reporters. How could I stop
that?....But, look guys, we still have to replace the Veep, and Hilde gets me
more votes than anybody else we polled, by a large number. Don’t forget
Alinsky’s main rule – never voluntarily give it up once you get into power.”

 Vivian looked over
at the First Lady. She could tell from the body language and lack of eye
contact of her friend of twenty plus years that the First Lady was probably,
reluctantly, willing to agree with her husband. Vivian instantly regretted her
comment arguing that the Calhoun enemy destruction conspiracy theory was hokum.
Her words had made it appear that she could swallow Hilde as Vice President,
when she had no such intention. She knew it was time to erase the impression
that she would agree to Hilde’s selection.  “Look, a minute ago I supported the
Calhouns on the ‘murder their enemies’ bunk, but I didn’t mean to say that
I…..”

BUZZ. The President’s
telephone handset alerted him that his personal secretary was about to give him
a message. He was somewhat surprised because his standing instruction had been
to never interrupt a meeting with the First Lady and Vivian Higgins. “Yes,
Marge,” his voice tinged with some anger, “what is it? You know I’m with….”

“I’m so sorry, Mr.
President. I wouldn’t have even thought of interrupting you, but you need to
know that CBS just called to alert us that President Calhoun, sorry, former
President Calhoun, has just been rushed to the hospital. Sorry to interrupt,
sir.”

“No problem, Marge,
you were right. We needed to know.”

Vivian was the first
to speak. “Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways, as they say. Our remaining
problem with the best way to pick up six per cent of the vote this fall may
have just been resolved. Now, we just have to figure out how to break it to
Goofy. He has a world famous temper, as we know, and a ton bunch of friends on
the Hill. It won’t be easy.”